Gloucester.
Lord Bishop, set the Crown upon his head.

Win.
God save King Henry, of that name the Sixth!

Glou.
Now, Governor of Paris, take your oath.
That you elect no other King but him;
Esteem none friends, but such as are his friends;
And none your foes, but such as shall pretend
Malicious practices against his state.
This shall ye do, so help you righteous God! Enter Fastolfe.

Fast.
My gracious Soveraign, as I rode from Calais,
To haste unto your Coronation;
A letter was deliver'd to my hands,
Writ to your Grace from th' Duke of Burgundy,

Tal.
Shame to the Duke of Burgundy, and thee!
I vow'd, base Knight, when I did meet thee next,
To tear the Garter from thy craven leg,
Which I have done; because unworthily
Thou wast installed in that high degree.
Pardon, my Princely Henry, and the rest:
This dastard, at the battle of Poictiers,
When but in all I was six thousand strong,

And that the French were almost ten to one,
Before we met, or that a stroke was given,
Like to a trusty 'squire, did run away.
In which assault we lost twelve hundred men;
My self and divers gentlemen beside
Were there surpriz'd, and taken prisoners.
Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss;
Or whether that such cowards ought to wear
This ornament of knighthood, yea or no?

Glou.
To say the truth, this fact was infamous,
And ill beseeming any common man;
Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader.

Tal.
When first this Order was ordain'd, my lords,
Knights of the Garter were of noble birth;
Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty courage;
Such as were grown to Credit by the wars;
Not fearing death, nor shrinking for distress,
But always resolute in most extremes.
He then, that is not furnish'd in this sort,
Doth but usurp the sacred name of Knight,
Prophaning this most honourable Order;
And should, if I were worthy to be judge,
Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain
That doth presume to boast of gentle blood.

K. Henry.
Stain to thy countrymen! thou hear'st thou doom;
Be packing therefore, thou that wast a Knight;
Henceforth we banish thee on pain of death. [Exit Fastolfe.
And now, my lord Protector, view the letter
Sent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy.

Glou.
What means his Grace, that he hath chang'd his stile?
No more but plain and bluntly, To the King. [Reading.
Hath he forgot, he is his Soveraign?
Or doth this churlish superscription
Portend some alteration in good will?
What's here? I have upon especial cause, [Reads.
Mov'd with compassion of my country's wrack,
Together with the pitiful complaints

Of such as your oppression feeds upon,
Forsaken your pernicious factions,
And join'd with Charles, the rightful King of France.
O monstrous treachery! can this be so?
That in alliance, amity, and oaths,
There should be found such false dissembling guile?

K. Henry.
What! doth my uncle Burgundy revolt?

Glou.
He doth, my lord, and is become your foe.

K. Henry.
Is that the worst this letter doth contain?

Glou.
It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes.

K. Henry.
Why then lord Talbot there shall talk with him,
And give him chastisement for this abuse.
My lord, how say you, are you not content?

Tal.
Content, my Liege? yes: but that I'm prevented,
I should have begg'd I might have been employ'd.

K. Henry.
Then gather strength, and march unto him strait:
Let him perceive how ill we brook his treason,
And what offence it is to flout his friends.

Tal.
I go, my lord, in heart desiring still
You may behold confusion of your foes. [Exit Talbot. Enter Vernon, and Basset.

Ver.
Grant me the combat, gracious Soveraign.

Bas.
And me, my lord; grant me the combat too.

York.
This is my servant; hear him, noble Prince.

Som.
And this is mine; sweet Henry, favour him.

K. Henry.
Be patient, lords, and give them leave to speak.
Say, gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim?
And wherefore crave you combat? or with whom?

Ver.
With him, my lord, for he hath done me wrong.

Bas.
And I with him, for he hath done me wrong.

K. Henry.
What is the wrong whereon you both complain?
First let me know, and then I'll answer you.

Bas.
Crossing the sea from England into France,
This fellow here, with envious, carping tongue,
Upbraided me about the rose I wear;

Saying, the sanguine colour of the leaves
Did represent my master's blushing cheeks;
When stubbornly he did repugn the truth
About a certain question in the law,
Argu'd betwixt the Duke of York and him;
With other vile and ignominious terms.
In confutation of which rude reproach,
And in defence of my lord's worthiness,
I crave the benefit of law of arms.

Ver.
And that is my petition, noble lord;
For though he seem with forged quaint conceit
To set a gloss upon his bold intent,
Yet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him;
And he first took exceptions at this badge,
Pronouncing, that the paleness of this flow'r
Bewray'd the faintness of my master's heart.

York.
Will not this malice, Somerset, be left?

Som.
Your private grudge, my lord of York, will out,
Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it.

K. Henry.
Good lord! what madness rules in brainsick men!
When, for so slight and frivolous a cause,
Such factious emulations shall arise!
Good cousins both of York and Somerset,
Quiet your selves, I pray, and be at peace.

York.
Let this dissention first be try'd by fight,
And then your Highness shall command a peace.

Som.
The quarrel toucheth none but us alone;
Betwixt our selves let us decide it then.

York.
There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset.

Ver.
Nay, let it rest, where it began at first.

Bas.
Confirm it so, mine honourable lord.

Glou.
Confirm it so? confounded be your strife,
And perish ye with your audacious prate;
Presumptuous vassals! are you not asham'd
With this immodest clamorous outrage
To trouble and disturb the King, and us?
And you, my lords, methinks, you do not well
To bear with their perverse objections:
Much less to take occasion from their mouths

To raise a mutiny betwixt your selves:
Let me persuade you take a better course.

Exe.
It grieves his Highness: good my lords, be friends.

K. Henry.
Come hither you, that would be combatants:
Henceforth I charge you, as you love our favour,
Quite to forget this quarrel and the cause.
And you, my lords; remember where we are;
In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation:
If they perceive dissention in our looks,
And that within our selves we disagree,
How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd
To wilful Disobedience, and Rebell?
Beside, what infamy will there arise,
When foreign Princes shall be certify'd,
That for a toy, a thing of no regard,
King Henry's Peers and chief Nobility
Destroy'd themselves, and lost the realm of France?
O, think upon the Conquest of my father,
My tender years, and let us not forego
That for a trifle, which was bought with blood.
Let me be Umpire in this doubtful strife:
I see no reason, if I wear this rose,
That any one should therefore be suspicious
I more encline to Somerset, than York.
Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both.
As well they may upbraid me with my Crown,
Because, forsooth, the King of Scots is crown'd.
But your discretions better can perswade,
Than I am able to instruct or teach:
And therefore, as we hither came in peace,
So let us still continue peace and love.
Cousin of York, we institute your Grace
To be our Regent in these parts of France:
And, good my lord of Somerset, unite
Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot;
And like true subjects, sons of your progenitors,
Go chearfully together, and digest
Your angry choler on your enemies.

Our self, my lord Protector, and the rest,
After some respite, will return to Calais;
From thence to England; where I hope ere long
To be presented, by your victories,
With Charles, Alanson, and that trait'rous rout. [Flourish. Exeunt. Manent York, Warwick, Exeter, and Vernon.

War.
My lord of York, I promise you, the King
Prettily, methought, did play the orator.

York.
And so he did; but yet I like it not,
In that he wears the badge of Somerset.

War.
Tush, that was but his fancy, blame him not;
I dare presume, sweet Prince, he thought no harm.

York.
An if I wis, he did.—But let it rest;(22) ^note

Exe.
Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice:
For had the passions of thy heart burst out,
I fear, we should have seen decypher'd there
More ranc'rous spight, mre furious raging broils,
Than yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd.
But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees
This jarring discord of Nobility,
This should'ring of each other in the Court,
This factious bandying of their favourites;
But that he doth presage some ill event.
'Tis much, when scepters are in childrens hands;

But more, when envy breeds unkind division:
There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. [Exit.

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